


Cherries in the Peach Orchard

by roobsk



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Animal Crossing References, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I wanted a sickfic and this is how I got it, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is an Incurable Romantic, M/M, Nicky is soft, Sickfic, and a bit dramatic, background andy/quynh, hinted at booker/nile, joe is soft, lets be honest they're all soft for each other, mentions of pastry, the yorkshire moors being dramatic AF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26935117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roobsk/pseuds/roobsk
Summary: Flu season never bothered Nile when she was mortal, it sure as hell shouldn't bother her now.But apparently, immortality likes to have its own fun.Cue blankets, pastries, and a suspicious fox that needs to get the hell off of Nile and Nicky's island.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 198





	Cherries in the Peach Orchard

**Author's Note:**

> I love me a sickfic and I didn't fancy the work of creating a whole scenario for an AU, so I just played with the rules of immortality a little bit. They're still immortal of course, just not so invulnerable to everything.
> 
> Plus, I leapt over the Booker Quynh angst that you know is coming if we get a second movie. I just want them all soft and domestic and playing Animal Crossing.
> 
> -Updated the formatting because it was bothering me.-

It’s flu season. That hadn’t bothered Nile in the desert, it hadn’t really bothered her before that, and it sure as hell shouldn’t bother her now that she’s a fucking immortal. It would have for that hot minute Andy was mortal, but then everything happened with Quynh and Booker, and Andy miraculously started healing again (‘saved by the power of love’ ‘I swear to god Joe…’). So, all things considered, Nile Freeman should not have to give a damn about flu season. Doesn’t stop her bringing it up though.

  
“Eight different people coughed on me man, eight! The flu is gross.” They’re currently holed up in a cottage a few miles just outside of York, a ten-minute walk from the nearest village. Surrounded as they were by the Yorkshire moors and big sky, Nile was finally learning the way wind could howl. She’d read Wuthering Heights in high school, but she never really got the whole ‘wuthering’ aspect until she stood out on those moors in early November. Pretty, wild, but… a tad bleak.

  
“Merde,” Booker was staring down at his coffee forlornly, although she couldn’t tell if it was because of what she’d said, or the lack of alcohol In his cup.

  
“What? It’s not like we have to worry,” her eyes widened at his lack of response. “Right?”

  
“Well-”

  
“Oh my god. You’re telling me that we, six goddamn mighty immortal beings, can get the frickin flu?”

  
Booker winced, “technically, yes.”

  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nile slumped down across the kitchen table from him, arms folded petulantly.

  
“Technically – technically, we can get most illnesses, our bodies just recover extremely fast. A cold can last between an hour to half a day. And food poisoning is still an issue.”

  
Nile frowned, “so we just, like, go through it really fast?”

  
“Oui, pretty much,” Booker took a sip of his coffee, grimacing. “I once had norovirus for forty minutes, then Joe had it for ten, then Andy-”

  
“Right, I get it. So, we’re all going to be struck down by the flu?”

  
“No.”

  
“No? I thought you said we still get sick?”

  
“The fundamental things still apply Nile; you ever had the flu?”

  
“Nope.”

  
“Then you probably won’t get it now. Andy and Quynh are thousands of years old and they never had it. Nor has Joe.”

  
“You?”

  
He shrugged, “once or twice.”

  
“Huh, ok.” Nile stood again, heading into the kitchen with those fancy shortbreads she’d found on her mind when she stopped, turning. “Wait,” when she looked back Booker had a crinkled copy of Watership Down in front of his face. “What about Nicky?” The book didn’t lower, but the angry rabbit flinched.

She forgot about their conversation quickly when Joe and Nicky came home, faces flushed from the cold and arms ladened with baked goods. Joe was laughing, talking a mile a minute about the bakery they’d found while Nicky stared at him adoringly.

  
The air changed swiftly the second Nicky pulled a Bakewell tart from his bag, and Nile found herself in a vicious tug of war with Quynh.

  
“Respect your elders.”

“You’ve had more of these in your life than I have, the playing field needs to be levelled.”

  
Quynh, the sneaky sneak, pouted, her dark eyes wide. “Nile, I was trapped-”

“Hell no, you used that to get the last slice of pizza yesterday.”

  
“Oh right. Still-” Quynh pulled, Nile pulled, the poor tart straining between them.

  
Nicky sighed, “you’re meant to share.”

  
“Nicky, my most beloved, my favourite little brother (“hey!” “understandable, he is wonderful” “merde, Joe…”), the tart is mine.”

  
“It’s mine,” Nile rebutted firmly. Their glaring match was halted by a sad sigh from Nicky, who stared forlornly down at the tart in question.

  
“I was hoping to have some myself, but that’s ok, I can make do without.” He then went back to unpacking the bags, sad and quiet.

  
Nile blinked, looking back at Quynh, who’d the expression of someone who knew she’d just been bested. Nile loosened her grip, the prize set delicately onto the table; no one could handle a disappointed Nicky. “Well played Nicolò,” she muttered at his blinding grin. “Well played.”

A little while and a lot of pastry later, everyone was settled down doing their own things. Andy and Quynh were in their room apparently ‘watching a film,’ Nile wasn’t going to test them on that. Booker was reading, Joe was out painting landscapes or something equally as romantic, while she had, somehow, convinced Nicky to play Animal Crossing with her. It was amazing.

  
“I think our peach orchard would look nice here Nile.”

  
“Me too.” It made sense really, the game was soft and sweet, calm; and so was Nicky. She’d seen him go feral in a fight on multiple occasions, watched him stand on the roof of a car and blow out someone else’s tyres from so far away it was ridiculous. But when it came down to it, even stray cats liked to curl up by the fire. Nicky’s natural state was easy and kind, unassuming and forgiving. It made her feel… fuzzy. She wouldn’t want a village with anyone else; lord knows what Andy would do to it.

  
“Let’s head down to the beach, I feel like fishing. Plus, I think Redd might be down there.”

  
Nicky cleared his throat and scowled, “you know how I feel about that fox, Nile.”

  
She laughed at the seriousness in his tone, “let's just see what he’s got.”

  
“As an artist’s husband I’m against it, but I trust your judgement.” He cleared his throat, “just know he is a charlatan and a thief.”

  
“And Nook is a loan shark.”

  
“He is-” he cut himself off, coughing lightly into his sleeve.

  
Nile flicked her eyes over to Booker, who was staring at them over the top of his book. “You ok?” she questioned.

  
Nicky cleared his throat again, though it did nothing for the roughness. “I’m fine.”

  
“Ok,” she drawled, watching him. “You know it’s flu season though, right?” On-screen Nicky’s villager ran into a tree.

  
“Oh.”

“Nature is a glorious and mighty treasure!” Joe, dripping wet with his curls in disarray and smiling wide, exclaimed from the doorway. “I have seen the divine this evening, a sight that can only be surpassed by the sight of my beloved,” he said as he looked around.

  
From the couch, Nile groaned. “Your beloved is taking a nap, so how about you keep the rhapsodising down.”

  
Joe pouted, “Nicky loves my rhapsodising.”

  
“Well nine times out of ten it's about his ass, so I’m sure he does” Andy cut in. She and Quynh were tucked into an armchair in a smash of limbs, wrapped in blankets as they all watched old episodes of Absolutely Fabulous.

  
“It is a great ass,” Quynh said.

  
Joe grinned, “it really is.” He shed his coat and boots, looking at the small space between Nile and Booker with a determined expression.

  
Booker tensed, “don’t even think about it, you want to sit you go dry off.”

  
Joe sniffed, “fine, my Nicky will not reject my company.”

  
“You Nicky is asleep; I don’t think a soggy surprise wakeup call is going to put him in a good mood. Even if it’s you.” Nile said.

  
The still dripping man seemed to weigh the idea however, Andy broke in, “we do need you to wake him though. It’s nearly dinner and we’re craving some good food.”

  
Before anyone could answer Nile spoke up, “let him sleep, I feel like cooking.” The looks her words met were not polite, “what?”

  
“It’s just, no offence meant mon chou, but…” Booker trailed off.

  
“You’re American,” Andy said, blunt as ever.

  
Nile let out a sputter of indignation. “I make great food-”

  
“Quality over quantity, little sister,” Quynh sing-songed.

  
“Well, I just-” she huffed, standing. “I’m making dinner. Nicky cooks all the time so let him nap you bunch of hyenas.” As an afterthought she added, “not you Joe, you’re a delight.”

  
She stomped into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and squinting at its contents. She’d show them, American food wasn’t all processed heaps of junk food – ooh cheese.

She’d make pesto mac n cheese with a salad. And put veggies in the bake; take that judgy immortals.

  
“It’s very kind of you to worry about Nicky.”

  
She squeaked in surprise, whirling round to find Joe smiling at her, eyes crinkling in delight. Nile relaxed, “that’s ok.”

  
He hummed, “Nicky really does like to cook though, he’d say if he didn’t want to.”

  
“I know I know; he’s not a mouse.”

  
Joe laughed softly, “no, he’s not.”

  
“But still, he deserves to sleep. He was tired earlier so…”

  
“Tired?”

  
“Yeah.” She watched a myriad of things flash over Joe’s face, almost like mental Tetris until understanding settled in his eyes.

  
“I see, thank you Nile.” With that, he slunk off into the house. Nicky better prepare himself for cuddles.

A few burnt and sliced fingertips were worth the pleasantly surprised looks on everyone’s faces when Nile presented them with dinner.

  
“Ooh looks good Nile,” Quynh said joyfully, heaping her and Andy’s plates with liberal servings. Andy stood silent, holding the increasingly heavy plates, but her smile was a thing of beauty as she watched her wife.

  
Booker gave a contemplative hum, “looks nice, Cherie.”

  
Nile most defiantly did not blush. “See, Americans can cook.”

  
“I never doubted you Nile,” Quynh said as she left the kitchen.

  
“Um,” Nile scowled at her. “Yes, you did.”

  
“Challenges improve our performance,” Andy called over her shoulder.

  
“I’m done with this now,” she said with finality, eyes on Booker. “Where are the nice people we live with?”

  
“I assume you’re talking about me and my moon,” Joe slid into the room, dry and comfy looking in joggers and a sweater. An incredibly soft and sleep-mussed Nicky shuffled in after him, clad in a hoodie that was big on Joe, let alone his husband.

  
Nile held in the urge to burrow under his arm for what would clearly be an epic hug. “You’d never insult my cooking, would you Nicky?”

  
Nicky blinked, his sleep-addled brain taking a few minutes to catch up. Those brilliant eyes of his widened, “who insulted your skills, picolina?”

  
Joe chuckled, flinging an arm around Nicky and pulling him into his chest. “It wasn’t Nile they were critiquing, my little leone; just all of America.”

  
“Oh, well then.”

  
“Nicolò di Genova, how could you? The betrayal…” Nile feigned offence, clutching her plate to her chest. “Way to make me feel unwelcome.”

  
“I don’t-”

  
“Nile, don’t tease Nicolò when he’s sleepy, he can’t parse sarcasm.” Joe pressed a kiss to Nicky’s flushed cheek, making a displeased noise, bringing his hand up to his husband’s face. “You’re warm habibi.”

  
“It’s just from sleeping.” Joe clearly didn’t believe him; neither did Nile.

Which they were right to do, as the next morning a feverish and achy Nicky was shivering beneath a mound of blankets, at other times kicking them away as chills racked his body. It had been obvious the night before when the Genovese man had alternated between dipping in and out of sleep on Joe’s shoulder or fidgeting as his fever grew worse. Eventually, stern yet kind, Andy had ordered him to bed. With a petulant pout Nile hadn’t thought him capable of, Nicky insisted he was fine. Not that it made much difference when Joe had stood, scooped his husband up and disappeared with a quiet goodnight.

  
Now here they were, Nicky gradually getting more and more out of it while Joe tried to coax him into drinking some water.

  
“Small sips, Nicolò.” Nicky, uncomfortable but docile, did as he was asked before collapsing back into his sweat-soaked pillow with a huff. Joe spoke softly, “I know baby, not much longer.”

  
From her perch on a nearby chair Nile watched, forehead creased in concern. “Will he be alright?”

  
“Soon enough, we burn through it fast, it just makes us very sick while it does.”

  
“Oh, I see. So it is just the flu?”

  
“I think so,” Joe replied as he settled Nicky’s head on his lap, running a hand through the damp strands.

  
“Yusuf…” Nicky mumbled, eyelids flickering.

  
“What it is hayati?”

  
“Tell Nile – tell her…”

  
“Tell me what Nicky?” Nile asked, leaning in close.

  
“Don’t… don’t trust. The fox.”

  
Joe looked between them, confusion evident. “Fox?”

  
Nile smiled down at Nicky, fondness wrapping around her heart. “From our island.”

  
“Oh, I see.” Joe shook his head, hushing Nicky as he continued to mumble about unscrupulous woodland animals. “You know,” Joe began, “I remember, just a little way outside Prague, when Nicky, Quynh, Andy and I were all struck with tuberculosis at the same time.”

  
Nile scoffed, “at once?”

  
Joe nodded, smiling. “It’s odd, illness seems to show the differences between us.”

  
“How do you mean?”

  
“At the time, Nico was out of commission for two days, I was down for a few hours. Andy for a day; but Quynh just coughed up a giant clot of blood and went on about her day.”

  
“Ew, what?” The image was really one she could have lived millennia without. “So, Nicky gets sick the most often?”

  
“It might seem that way, but he seems to be immune to some things the rest of us aren’t. The number of times the rest of us have been brought low by food poisoning, or that norovirus” he shuddered, “and Nicky was always totally fine.”

  
“Iron stomach?”

  
“Apparently so. Andy has had malaria most frequently, none of us knows why. Quynh gets the longest handovers and cholera, not that I see the correlation.”

  
“Wow.”

  
“And Booker doesn’t seem to suffer from any one thing more, but he catches most of everything for the shortest time.”

  
“That why you banished him?” Booker had gone out earlier that day with just a ‘bon chance’ thrown their way.

  
Joe laughed, “yes. A sick Booker is even more maudlin than usual if you can believe it.”

  
“How about you? What’s your germ of choice?”

  
“I’ve been rather robust so far, so nothing in particular. Although… I have had frostbite the most.”

  
“Sounds fun.”

  
Joe snorted, “guess we’ll figure out your germ of choice soon enough.”

  
“Oh great” she deadpanned.

  
“You’re one of us Nile, it’s a family tradition.”

“What, dying of disease?”

  
“We never die of sickness Nile. We just need some extra love for a little while.” He looked so tenderly at Nicky as he said this, hands so gentle as they carded through his husband’s hair, that warmth spread lovingly through Nile’s chest.

  
She spoke as soft as the moment deserved, “that doesn’t sound so bad.”

Emerging from a very relaxing bath that evening (‘I like to get my bubbles on, Andromache.’) Nile heard the familiar cheery sounds of her and Nicky’s island drifting in the air. She found him sat up, wrapped in his sea of blankets, still pale and tired but his eyes had lost the glassiness from earlier.

  
She grinned, “hey there sleeping beauty.”

  
He smiled sweetly at her, greasy fringe falling into his eyes, “buonasera Nile.”

  
She settled on the floor beside his folded legs, “What are you up to?”

  
“I’m considering my options. Joe doesn’t understand the high stakes of the turnip market.”

  
A laugh preceded Joe emerging from the kitchen, shaking his head. “I thought he was still delirious.”

  
“Turnip prices are important Yusuf; Daisy Mae looks like a sweet little boar, but she’s devoted to the rampant machine of capitalism.”

  
Joe looked at Nile, “you see where my confusion came from.”

  
“You’re right Joe, everyone knows Daisy Mae is a pure angel who isn’t to be questioned.”

  
“Give me strength,” Joe threw up his hands, but he was smiling all the while. “Much as I’m loathed to take you from this capitalist hellscape, its shower time, my love. It’ll make you feel much better.”

  
“Plus,” Nile leant in, sniffing at Nicky’s blanket-covered knee. “You reek.”

  
“That’s just blanket Nile.”

  
“Yeah, that you’ve sweat through profusely.”

  
“Ugh,” Nicky groaned, “I’m too tired to deal with words like profusely.”

  
“And weak as a kitten to boot,” Joe said, eyes twinkling with mirth.

  
Nicky was indignant, “I am not.”

  
“Oh, so you can get yourself up and into the shower?”

  
Nicky frowned, looking down at the control in his hands. Suddenly, he shoved it into Nile’s hands, pouting sadly up at Joe as he held his hands out. “Per favore, amore mio.”

  
Now Nile, in the vein of her mother, would not have been swayed by such a clear and lazy manipulation; even if it was from Nicky (she’d discover how wrong she was not a year later). Joe, however, with a look of pure delight, plucked Nicky from his nest of blankets and held him with ease; hands cupping Nicky’s backside as he held him close.  
“I’ll look after you, my heart.”

  
“Grazie, Tesoro,” Nicky mumbled into Joe’s cheek, giving it a peck.

  
“You guys are ridiculous,” Nile scoffed, though she diligently fought back her smile. “Cute as shit, but still ridiculous.”

  
Joe hummed happily as he carried Nicky away, the slightly younger man’s voice calling out to her, “I planted cherries in the peach orchard Nile.”

  
Damn, she could really go for some cherries.


End file.
